


you taste like gin and my dear, I want to drink you

by toboldlywrite



Category: Dorian Gray (2009)
Genre: Alcohol, M/M, sometimes I get very emotional about Basil
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-10-11
Updated: 2014-10-11
Packaged: 2018-02-20 16:54:59
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 375
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2436029
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/toboldlywrite/pseuds/toboldlywrite
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dorian just kissed Basil, and it's nothing like Basil imagined.</p>
            </blockquote>





	you taste like gin and my dear, I want to drink you

This is not how he wanted to kiss Dorian Gray.

Basil always imagined, for some reason, that it would happen at his studio. Dorian would be posing, and Basil would slip off his stool and cross the room. I need a better look at you, he’d say. He would trace with the tip of a finger the edges of Dorian’s face, his pale jaw, his aquiline nose, and lastly his lips. Entrancing, they are, bright and rosy and good God, Basil simply wouldn’t be able to resist. He would kiss Dorian gently, linger before pulling away. _I’m sorry,_ he’d murmur, shaking his head, sure the blush burning through him could set the whole house aflame. _I don’t know what I was-_ but Dorian would grasp him by the shoulders and kiss him till they forgot their names, forgot everything else besides each other.

Maybe things could have been that way. But Dorian sighs and his breath is pure gin, and Basil - Basil never gets rip-roaringly drunk, not like Henry, but he can feel the brandy warming his bones, making him loose and unsteady. Basil has to remind himself to breathe as Dorian’s head dips to his neck and he starts - oh, God - kissing so gently it tickles. Basil bites his lip and shudders. Some part of this is fake, he knows. Dorian’s trying to get him off the subject of the portrait, trying to distract him (and it’s working entirely too well, he admits as Dorian’s hand presses against the back of his neck). Basil just found him in the arms of two girls from Soho, for heaven’s sake. This isn’t _real._

Dorian lifts his head and gazes at Basil with an intensity that even he, who has sketched his face in every conceivable mode, has never witnessed. He looks like he did on that terrible day when Henry first swayed him - half-open mouth, bright but not glinting eyes, the slightest hint of pink in his cheeks. His chest rises and falls, and Basil can hear just how ragged his breathing is.

Yes, this is definitely not how he wanted to kiss Dorian Gray. _But,_ Basil thinks as he leans forward and his lips crash into Dorian’s, _now is hardly the time to be picky._


End file.
